Albert's ABSOLUTELY Amazing Launch Party

It took me almost 12 years to complete my most recent picture book, Albert's Almost Amazing Adventure. Planning the launch party for that same book seemed like it took twice that amount of time and at least ten times the effort.

I'm not much of one for party planning. I never have been. My idea of planning a party usually goes something like this:

1. I should have a party.

And that's really about it. I invite people to the party and hope for the best.

Do I have any napkins? No. You have a sleeve, right?
A fork? What's wrong with your fingers?
A cool, refreshing beverage? The sink is over there.
Something to eat? I think there are some dried up raisins in the cupboard over there. Help yourself.

This worked adequately well while I was in college and expectations were generally low. As an adult, however, it seems that people expect more when you invite them to a party. That's why I'm so lucky that my wife, Kerri is a wonderful party planner who considers things like "what other people might want".

When Islandport Press (who published the book) suggested that I host a launch party, I thought, "Okay. I think there's a half a bag of BBQ-flavored chips in the cupboard and I can probably dig out an old packet of Kool Aid."

I found out rather quickly that they had other ideas of what a launch party might entail. A launch party is, essentially,  a way to gather a large group of people together in the hope that they will buy many copies of your new book. I was advised, by every single person I spoke with, that lushing people up with stale BBQ chips and watered down grape Kool Aid was not going to cut it.

The publisher and my wife immediately swooped into action to save me from myself.

First, the publisher sent a bunch of goofy, book-themed props that we could use to make a photo booth.

Welcome to my party. Please stick your head in a shark's mouth.

A wide variety of ghastly props for use in the photo-booth.

Then Islandport Press changed the game by whispering to me that they provide "a budget" to help pay for launch parties.

My "Free Jet-Packs for Everybody While We Party On A Cruise Ship To Hawaii" party theme idea was quickly squashed.

"Perhaps we should discuss what we meant by 'a budget'," the publisher said.

With a somewhat altered view of what may be possible, I set out to make the most wonderful party I could imagine. And my wife and kids and the people at Islandport set out to make sure that it actually WAS wonderful.

I sought help from author friends who had hosted many successful launch parties. By stealing their brilliant ideas, I was able to save myself from many hours of unpleasant thinking and planning.

I made activity sheets and bought some crayons and pencils because, as my pal, Julie Falatko explained, "Nothing says 'party" like an activity sheet."

I bought tickets so I could raffle off an original piece of art. These would prove to be a problem later.

I hand-carved a bunch of rubber stamps featuring events from the book.

I made postcards where people could collect the stamps.

I bought 11 billion pipe cleaners so people could make their very own Albert glasses.

And Islandport Press sent me a bunch of really cool bookmarks to hand out.

My first act in planning the party was to send up a Steve Signal™. I got in touch with my good friends (and musicians extraordinaire) Steve Blunt,  Joe Pierog, and Noelle Boc to see if THE BAND could play at the party. Sadly, Noelle could not make it, but the rest of THE BAND would be there. 

I contacted the PTA at the local elementary school and asked if they would like to handle book sales at the party. I offered to donate all the profits to the school's PTA. They very kindly agreed to help out and Heidi Morgan, the president of the PTA was terrific.

I contacted the wonderful folks at The Whipple Free Library in New Boston and asked about using the Community Room to host the party. They agreed, as long as I brought back that overdue book I had out.

I also contacted... Miss Sam. Miss Sam is currently the readiness teacher at the local elementary school. She's also a wonderful human being. I roped her into having her entire class perform a dramatic interpretation of my book.

Things were rolling.

As the day of the party drew ever nearer, Kerri kept giving me helpful suggestions of things I might want to do.

Buy some food for the party.
Buy more food for the party, you cheapskate.
No, you can't feed a bunch of kids leftover rabbit food from the shed.
What is wrong with you? A single serving packet of Goldfish crackers? I'm going shopping.

Thankfully, Kerri did a masterful job of thwarting my every avoidance and we wound up with a lovely, well thought out spread.

Tori and I spent a lot of time decorating cookies that Kerri baked.

Lots of cookies.

Tori will be thrilled that I am sharing this picture of her. I love you, honey!

Albert!

Albert!

 The day of the party arrived and, armed with cookies, food, snacks, photo-booth accessories, activity sheets, and some wonderful helpers, we partied hard.

We spent most the early afternoon setting up the room and hoping that somebody would come.

Amazing A/V Spectaular? Check.

Amazing Art Raffle? Check.

Amazing Photo Booth? Check.

Amazing Arts and Crafts? Check.

Amazing mom, ready to paint some faces? Check.

We needn't have worried about people coming. They came. And came, and came, and came. It was awesome!

My Amazing high school helpers, Lexi, Molly, and Kayley helped with crowd control.

Tori acted as the door bouncer. She was handing out raffle tickets at the door. She found out fast that she needed to explain that the tickets were free, otherwise people turned and tried to flee.

Lexi sported some high fashion Albert Glasses.

My mom and Molly painted a LOT of faces.

Because there were a LOT of people there.

A LOT of people.

We started out with Miss Sam's Readiness class performing a dramatic interpretation of my book. That's Miss Sam, sneaking up behind me.

The kids...

were...

SO...

AMAZING!!!

I can't even express how flattered and thrilled I was with the incredible job that Miss Sam and her class did in performing the book.  They were a very tough act to follow, but I gave a brief presentation on how I created the book after their stellar performance.

"Hey. Guy! Get off the stage! Bring the kids back!"

There was a brief time after my presentation where I signed a lot of books and talked with a lot of friends who showed up at the party.
 

Chris looks good in anything, but REALLY rocks those Albert glasses!

I met a lot of new friends signing books.

And got to see some old friends, too.

Hugs all around!

My friend, the very talented author/illustrator Lisa showed up with her son, Jack.

My high school pal Elizabeth came!

Jen and Laura, two of the greatest librarians in the world showed up to party. Librarians know how to party, y'all.

Another illustrator friend! Paul came all the way from Massachusetts!

After a whirlwind meet and greet, it was back on stage for the big music show.

I cajoled Tori into joining us for 1 song. She may, eventually, forgive me some day.

There was dancing.

There was a Toddler Mosh Pit.

The view from the stage.

Another view from the stage. Look at all the friends who came!

 After the music, there was a little more time for chatting and signing books and then... it was over.

I cannot thank you all enough. To the friends and family who helped to make this such an amazing time, I humbly and sincerely thank you. To everyone who came to enjoy the day with us, I thank you. I wish I could have spent more time visiting with everyone.

We'll have to do this again. I still have a half a single-serving package of Goldfish crackers left over.

Who's in?

Rockin' Out at Rockin' Horse

Drums? Check.
Harmonica? Check.
Totally rad and wildly inappropriate Iron Maiden t-shirt? Check, baby.
Let's rock.

Today I got to spend the day at Rockinghorse Studios slapping down some fat beats for my buddy, Steve Blunt. Yeah, baby. I was droppin' them like they were hot.

Every year, Steve records a new song for the library summer reading program.

Steve at the studio. He is obviously not ready to rock, as he is NOT wearing a rad Iron Maiden shirt.

 I feel obligated to whine a bit about how hard it is to be a drummer.

1. Lots of stuff to schlep around.
2. Very hard to whip out your drum set at a party and impress the ladies with your smooth music.
3. Lots of stuff to schlep around.
4. That stuff is heavy.
5. And there's a lot of it. Did I mention that?

To help with the schlepping, I conscripted my charming 14-year-old daughter, Tori, to give up her entire Saturday so she could come to the studio with me and help me schlep equipment.

"Plus," I explained, to sweeten the deal, "You'll get to see me in my totally rad Iron Maiden shirt."

Tori rolled her eyes so hard I could hear it.

She packed 2 books to bring with her because she has been to the studio before and knows firsthand that creating masterpieces of rock and roll basically involves playing the same song over and over and over and over until you want to claw chunks of your brain out just to get the song out of your head.

I swear this is true - these are the two books that Tori chose to bring with her. Anne of Green Gables and the Special Forces Survival Guide. She is one strange little cookie. But don't tell her I said that because now that she has read that survival guide, she can probably kill me and make it look like an accident.

We arrived at the studio and were met by Brian and Josh, the evil masterminds behind the mixing panels.

Brian setting up the drums. I refuse to touch microphones at his studio as most of them cost more than my house. Plus, Brian doesn't let drummers touch anything. Ever.

Brian indicates that he is through by throwing up devil horns, the universal signal for "I am through setting up microphones around these drums. Do not touch any of them, you filthy drummer, as they cost more than your house."

Joe, the fabulous bass player arrived and the party really got rolling.

Whoa, whoa, whoa... calm down there, Mr. Joe, you crazy man. This is a recording studio, not a kegger. And where is your rad Iron Maiden shirt? Doesn't anyone read my emails?

Here's how making a song works:

1. Steve writes a song
2. Steve sends us a demo version of the song that he recorded at his house.
3. We listen to the song and come up with some cool parts to go along with it.
4. We practice and practice along with the demo.
5. Two days before entering the studio to do it for real, Steve sends us a new version of the demo that he recorded at the studio. This is called a "scratch track".
 6. We realize that the "scratch track" is completely different than the song we have been practicing with.
7. We cry a little.
8. We go to the studio and completely make it up as we go along.

(Please note that when I say "We", what I actually mean is "I", because Joe is actually a really good, professional studio musician. He can fake it like a boss. I cannot.)

Before we started playing, Brian made sure that I, as a drummer and therefor prone to drooling and sweating and dragging my knuckles across the floor, was properly insulated from the rest of his studio.

Brian closing me into "The Drummer Box".

Brian closes me in even more tightly to assure that none of my drummer fumes can contaminate the studio. Please note my totally rad Iron Maiden shirt.

Once I was securely in my padded enclosure, I took careful note of my surroundings.

Tissues, conveniently located within reach for the inevitable weepy breakdown when I find out that we have to play the song "Just one more time."

Personal sound mixer so I can "unintentionally" turn the click track off and Brian won't know.

The view from behind the drums. Please note the protective glass between the studio and the booth, where the producers and engineers sit in luxurious comfort, far from the reeking drummers and their rad Iron Maiden shirts.

Little jellies stuck to drum heads to prevent ringing sounds. Brian hooked me up with one that looked like a little man and I was distracted throughout the entire recording session watching the man jump around every time I hit this drum.

Steve brings beer and tells us that we can't have any until we play the song perfectly. He cracks it open, takes a long pull off it, licks his lips and walks out of the studio and into the booth where he proceeds to smoke giant Cuban cigars, drink fine, imported beer, sit in a hot tub, and get a massage by the in-house Swedish masseuse. At least, this is what I assume is happening. I can't actually see out of my drummer cave.

Tori did manage to snap this candid picture of Brian hard at work during the recording session. I can't see the masseuse, but she's there somewhere. I know it. I just know it.

After we're all settled in, we play the song two or three thousand times and we're done!

Almost.

"How about playing some harmonica?" Steve says, waving a beer in front of my sweat be-dewed face.

I knew this was coming. I was ready for it. I even went out and bought a brand-new harmonica, just for this moment.

A few weeks earlier, Steve had hinted that I might want to check out the harmonica solo in the song "What I Like About You" by The Romantics. He thought something like that might fit well into his song.

So I learned it. I played it over and over and over and over. If you have never played a harmonica, you should know that they can be played by inhaling or exhaling, each direction producing a distinctive sound. The solo Steve had asked me to play had almost no place for exhaling. But I played and played and played, risking debilitating pulmonary damage each time.

But I learned it.

I told Steve about it and suggested that he might want to start saving up for the iron lung (NOT the Iron Maiden shirt) that I was going to make him buy for me when my lungs exploded.

"Oh," he laughed lightly," I didn't mean that you should memorize the solo. I just meant something like that."

"Ha, ha," I wheezed from my perforated, tattered lungs.

But when harmonica time, I nailed that solo.

This is the view from behind a shiny gold harmonica microphone that probably costs more than all our houses combined.

Inhale.

Inhale more.

Carpet on the floor for when I pass out.

"Ha! Ha! We're not even recording this! Where is that masseuse? Steve, pass me another beer!"

"Sure thing, Brian! You can have Marty's beer because he's coughing up blood from his hemorrhaged lungs. Ha! Ha! Ha! That's so funny. Hey, masseuse, you want a beer, too?"

Still playing! Must be the super powers I've developed because of my rad Iron Maiden t-shirt.

When we were finally through, I staggered from the studio, gasping for air and dripping with sweat.

"Hey, man. Don't sweat on my carpets," Brian said as the masseuse massaged his feet.

I collapsed in a quivering heap on the floor, but fortunately for me, Tori had her Special Forces Survival Guide. She whacked me on the head with it a few times to revive me. That thing really works!

Then we headed home so we could start schlepping equipment back into the house.

I can't wait until it's time to record next year's song!